


Where you go, I go

by mermaidsahoy



Series: Blue and Red Lights [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, blue and red lights, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidsahoy/pseuds/mermaidsahoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So...did Sandor betray the Stark girls? Or is this just some misunderstanding?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where you go, I go

**Author's Note:**

> The conclusion to "Blue and Red Lights". I hope you like it. Thank you all for your support of this fic <3

Sansa stumbled backwards, bile rising in her throat as she stared wildly from Tyrion to Sandor. “What…what have you done?”

Arya was screaming something and Sandor scowled in her direction. “Would you shut-up! You want every buggering Lannister in the world to know where we are?” Her sister glowered angrily at them all, but Sansa only had eyes for Sandor.

“It’s not what you think, lass,” he finally answered, his eyes softening and he reached for her. She backed out of his grasp, alarmed and confused. “Then what is it?” she whispered hoarsely. Tyrion answered instead. “Miss Stark, I mean you no harm, truly. I want to help you and your sister escape. We thought this was the only way.”

His statement only made Sansa feel more suspicious and doubtful. True, Tyrion had always been kind to her, kinder than the rest of the Lannisters, but he was still a _Lannister_ , and that meant he was untrustworthy. And Sandor…

“Tyrion found me the other night while I was planning our escape,” Sandor began quietly, his arms falling to his sides and he placed the handgun in the back of his belt. “He insisted that the only way to get you girls out and back North was with his help, otherwise his family would find us as soon as we made an attempt to leave the state.”

“Why should we believe you,” Arya spat, crossing forward to hold Sansa’s arm. “You’ve already lied to us.” “I didn’t lie,” Sandor growled, shaking his head. “I just left details out. Think about it: if I had told you last night that we were getting help from Tyrion Lannister, would you have gone with me willingly? Of course not.”

A trembling nervousness began to replace the fear in Sansa as she studied the man before her carefully. His words did make sense, but after all she had been through, Sansa was still hesitant to completely believe him.

“Look,” Tyrion continued, fishing inside of his coat. He pulled out an envelope. “I have three plane tickets, identification, and money for you. I was planning on using my private jet, but since my traveling is being monitored by my father, I thought it might be easier to get you on a regular airline. I pulled some strings, of course, to get these last minute details worked out, but you will be watched by my men from the moment you enter the airport and board the plane till you touch down in the North.”

He leaned over the side of the boat, stretching his short arm towards Sansa. “Take it and see.” Warily, Sansa slowly took the envelope and peered inside. True enough, there were tickets, passports, ID’s, and a wad of cash. Sansa glanced at Sandor and he nodded encouragingly to her. She turned back to Tyrion, meeting his mismatched eyes. “Why are you helping us?” she queried, still unable to accept his help.

Tyrion sighed, looking tired. “Think of it as some small repayment for the evils my family has done towards yours,” he answered, staring down at the water. “I know this will never replace the loss of a father and brother, but…well, a Lannister always pays his debts. And besides, I want to watch Cersei go bonkers when she discovers you’ve made it out alive.” He gave a crooked smile, then checked his watch.

“We don’t have much time. If you accept my offer, you’ll come over onto this boat and I will escort you to the airport.”

“Why are there three tickets?” Arya asked, taking the envelope from Sansa and fingering the contents. Sandor shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Sansa with a wince. “It’s for me…if you want me to come with you,” he muttered, clearly discomforted at the thought of expressing such a desire to Sansa while they had an audience.

Her chest tightened while she studied the scarred man who had come to mean so much to her in just a short amount of time. She couldn’t help but believe him; after all, the facts added up.

_He asked for an extra ticket because he wanted to come with me. He wants to be with me._

Sansa exhaled and nodded, giving him a small smile, and a somewhat relieved expression flashed across his stern features.

“It’s settled then. Come, we don’t have any more time to waste.” Tyrion gestured for them to climb onto his boat, so they grabbed their things out of the cabin. Bronn jumped over and took Sandor’s spot at the driver’s seat while he helped Sansa across to the other boat. He tried to help Arya too but she only bared her teeth at him and hopped over by herself.

When Sandor had joined them, Tyrion untied the rope holding the two boats together and Bronn waved them off, idling the boat away and he slowly disappeared into the mist.

Tyrion took the driver’s seat and steered the boat to the left, heading for a destination only he seemed to know. Sansa stood with her arms wrapped around her, feeling a chill. Sandor approached her cautiously. “I’m sorry, little bird. I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think there was any other way to get you and your sister this far.” Somewhere behind them, Arya muttered “liar” under her breath, but Sansa ignored her.

“I...I know you meant well, Sandor. It’s just hard to believe, that’s all.” He nodded gravely, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You have to know I would never intentionally hurt you…I may be dirty dog but I would do anything to keep you safe.” His voice sounded rougher, gruffer, than usual, and Sansa’s heart leapt as she stepped over to him. Her arms wound around his waist and she buried her face in chest, feeling the worn cotton of his shirt rub against her cheek in a comforting way. His arms were immediately around her as well, and his chest heaved slightly with relief.

* * *

 

The fog had begun to lift as Tyrion anchored the boat in a nearly abandoned dock. Waiting on a gravel road was an ordinary-looking SUV with a large man waiting inside. He rolled the driver’s side window down and watched as they exited the boat. Sansa couldn’t help but stare at him: he had multiple piercings and tattoos covering his face. She wondered if they had hurt.

“He’s taking you to the airport,” Tyrion informed Sansa and Arya as they approached.

“You’re not coming with us?” Arya questioned with a raised brow. “If someone notices me at the airport, it will be too obvious. The rest of you, even Clegane here, are much less likely to garner attention. Me on the other hand…” A wry smile stretched across his face. “I’m not exactly a forgettable person.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Arya hissed, clutching her backpack. “We have no choice but to trust him,” Sansa whispered, handing her bag to Sandor so he could put it in the trunk of the SUV. “What about the car? Does it have a tracking device? That usually happens in movies,” Arya pressed. Tyrion smiled and shrugged. “It’s a rental. The only incriminating evidence there would be is if you forgot a personal belonging behind. After you leave, I have another car waiting in the area that is going to pick me up and take me to a lovely little restaurant for brunch.”

Satisfied for the time being, Arya climbed into the second row of seats next to Sansa. Sandor climbed into the front, pulling his hood up over his baseball cap and placing a pair of sunglasses on his face. The big man waited until Tyrion gave him an affirming nod, then he rolled the window back up and pulled away from the harbor.

The drive to the airport was a silent one, each of the passengers lost in his or her thoughts. Sansa rotated between chewing her lip or her fingernails, stopping only when she tasted the metallic tang of blood. She glanced at Sandor periodically, but he kept busy watching the surrounding vehicles.

When they reached the drop-off for the airport, the man informed them that they had just enough time to check-in and head for the terminal. “You’re to board in about fifteen minutes.” Sandor helped them with their bags, all the while glancing around for Lannister henchman. When Sansa hefted her backpack on, he took one look at her, then whipped off his cap and placed it on her head. “Pull your hair back and tuck it under. You’ll be less easy to spot that way.” She did as she was told, following him into the busy airport.

Check-in brought waves of distress for Sansa when she spotted the security, wondering how many of them had been paid by the Lannisters to keep a look-out for two Stark girls. She and Arya passed through easily, but Sandor was stopped because of his gun. He was pulled to the side and questioned as he showed some kind of paperwork and documents. Sansa watched nervously, knowing they didn’t have much time left until boarding and every second counted. The more time they took, the more time the Lannisters had to stop them. The thought of getting caught and being forced to see Joffrey’s cruel face laughing at her made the bile rise up in her throat.

Sandor was, miraculously, given the go-ahead and he rejoined them, sitting down to quickly put his shoes back on. “How did they let you go through?” Sansa whispered. He smirked. “I have a concealed weapons permit and documentation of my service time in the military. Nothing they can do about it. Tyrion might have planned ahead for that as well.”

“What about all your other guns?” Arya asked. “Bronn’s taking them back to my place. I only brought them with us on the boat in case Tyrion betrayed us and a Lannister squad showed up.”

Now armed with only a handgun, Sandor led the girls down a long hallway towards their terminal. “We have a couple minutes left until they call for us to board. Do you want to get something to eat?” “Yes, please,” Sansa answered gratefully; she was starving. They grabbed breakfast sandwiches and coffee from a nearby food court and found seats in their waiting area. Outside, Sansa could see the plane being prepped for their boarding, and she trembled, for in a few hours she would be back in the North, safe, and able to demand justice for her father and Robb.

Tyrion had told them he had men watching them, but when she studied the people meandering through the terminal Sansa couldn’t spot anyone who seemed to match that. She wondered if Sandor could tell, so she asked him quietly. “Aye,” he answered calmly, taking a bite of his sandwich while his dark eyes darted around the room. “I’ve noticed a few. That one over there on the phone, for example. When our eyes met he gave a slight nod and scratched his nose.”

Sansa was impressed, to say the least. “You could be a good spy,” she informed him. Sandor chuckled and waded up the paper wrapping. “I’m getting too old for that crap. Too much traveling as well. I’ve done plenty of that in my life; would like to stay in one spot for once.” Sansa’s heart pounded at his words.

“I see…will you stay in the north?” She watched his reaction carefully. His eyes paused in their scanning of the terminal and he lowered them to hers. Slowly, he reached over and took her hand. “I’ll stay wherever you want, however long you want, little bird. Where you go, I go.”

Sansa smiled tremulously and leaned forward to kiss him, but their flight and numbers were suddenly called and the moment was broken. Quickly, Sandor stood and hurried them to the line forming at the entrance. Sansa wiped her hands on her pants, trying not to sweat on her boarding pass. Every moment she expected security to swoop down on them and deliver them into the hands of the Lannisters. Even as their passes were taken and they walked down the narrow hallway to the door of the plane, Sansa felt dizzy with anxiety, and with her free hand she gripped the back of Sandor’s jacket to steady herself.

The plane was a large one, and they were seated together in a row of three. Arya claimed the window seat, putting Sansa in the middle and Sandor on the outside.

Not until the plane began moving away from the building and towards the runway did Sansa finally relax, sharing a grin with her sister and Sandor. Sandor’s hand found hers and he gave a it a squeeze, placing a kiss on top of her head.

“Hey, look!” Arya suddenly exclaimed. They leaned over to see out her window.

A large SUV had pulled up on the tarmac below and someone climbed out of it, shouting angrily at the personal who were trying to keep him and several other men away from the plane. “Lannisters!” Sansa breathed, her fear returning. “What if they stop the plane?!”

“They can’t,” Sandor assured her as they watched some security drive up on a golf cart. “They won’t stop an entire plane from taking off, even for Tywin Lannister.” He chuckled, watching the angry men glare at the plane, which was moving further and further away. One of the men pulled out his cell phone and began speaking into it. Then they disappeared from sight as the plane turned.

* * *

 

“You guys! Come here, quick!” Arya yelled from the living room. Sansa and Sandor were in the kitchen, attempting to make cookies but getting distracted by kisses or throwing ingredients at each other. At Arya’s call they dropped what they were doing and hurried to join her.

“Look!” Arya pointed at the TV. On the screen was a news report. “Successful business man Tywin Lannister has been arrested just hours ago on charges of embezzlement, fraud, and murder. Included in the murder charges are the cases of Eddard Stark, Robb Stark, and Robert Baratheon.”

Sansa gripped Sandor’s arm and pulled him closer, swallowing as pictures of her father and brother appeared. “No other members of the Lannister family or organization have been charged at this time, but police and the California government are conducting a full investigation.” The news anchor promised more information on the evening news, then switched topics.

For a moment the three simply looked at each other, digesting what they had just heard. “Well, it’s a start,” Arya finally spoke up, reaching for the phone. “I’m going to call Mom and see if she’s heard yet.” Catelyn Stark had arrived in the North with their little brothers shortly after her daughters made it home. She cut ties with Petyr Baelish and set to work with her husband’s lawyer, building a case against the Lannisters with Sansa’s and Arya’s help. At the moment she was at the lawyer’s office, no doubt going over some evidence.

Sandor led Sansa back to the kitchen and she hugged him, not caring if his shirt was covered in flour and sugar. Her mother had been a little wary of Sandor at first, but after Sansa told her how he had risked everything to get them home safe, she softened up and opened her home to him. He now resided in one of the guest bedrooms until he got his own place.

“This is good news, little bird,” Sandor rasped, petting her hair with one giant hand. “I know,” she sniffled. “I just...I miss Father and Robb so much.” She could feel him nod quietly, continuing to stroke her hair and back comfortingly.

After a moment, he pulled her back gently, a smirk spreading over his face. “I think we should celebrate this small victory. I don’t believe we’ve been on a date since we left California.” He winked at her and she giggled, wiping her eyes. “A date sounds nice,” Sansa answered, smiling at him. Since they had arrived in the North, she and Sandor had not had many chances to be with just each other, not with the case and grieving for their father, husband, and brother.

“Good.” Sandor glanced at the counter beside them, strewn with baking sheets, flour, and cookie tins. “Let’s clean up here, then I’ll take you to dinner. No Chinese food, I promise.” Sansa laughed, patting him on the arm as she untied her apron and began wiping off the counter. Sandor set their dejected-looking batch of cookies aside to be finished later and put the other ingredients away. Once when he passed by her on the way to the fridge he gave her bottom a quick slap, making Sansa squeal and she promptly hurled a glob of melted chocolate at his back.

Sandor barked a laugh at her attack, then he pretended to scowl at her. “You’re going to pay for that, little bird. I liked this shirt.” Sansa playfully stuck her tongue out at him and skipped out of the room. “There’s bleach in the laundry room!” she sang to him. Quickly she climbed the stairs and hurried to take a shower so she could get ready for their date.

As she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and surveyed her closet, Sansa felt some familiar wriggles of excitement at the prospect of going on a date. With Sandor. It almost felt like things in her life were back to normal, before the hell of California and the Lannisters. Nothing could ruin this night, she decided.

After selecting a little black dress and a pair of bright, hot pink pumps, Sansa set to work on her hair and some light makeup, wondering where Sandor was going to take her. A cute little bistro? Dinner and a show? She wasn’t sure how familiar Sandor was with the town; perhaps she should have suggested something.

Pursing her lips, Sansa spun this way and that in front of her mirror, surveying her appearance. It was so nice to be back in her old room with her old things. Sansa could barely imagine giving them up again…until she got married of course. A sudden flush filled her as she thought of the possibility of marrying Sandor.

Grabbing a small purse, Sansa headed downstairs, hoping she hadn’t kept Sandor waiting. In the living room she discovered only Arya, still lounged out watching the TV with a gallon of ice cream and a can of Surge. Bran and Rickon must still be at their uncle’s house. “Have you seen Sandor?” she asked, glancing around. Arya shrugged, slurping nosily on her spoonful of Rocky Road. “He went out about fifteen minutes ago.”

Sansa was confused. Why had he left the house when they were about to go on a date? And without telling her? She sat down on a chair, trying to figure it out.

The doorbell rang, echoing through the house. “Who can that be?” Sansa muttered. Arya ignored her, clearly more interested in MTV than attempting to move. With a sigh, Sansa stood and crossed the hall, opening the door.

In front of her stood Sandor, wearing a buttoned black dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows, and dark dress pants. One hand was behind his back, and he smirked at her surprised expression, taking the opportunity to look her over. “You look beautiful,” he rasped, taking a step closer. “Thank you,” Sansa answered, suddenly shy. “You look very handsome.” He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Just a dog cleaned up.” Before she could protest, he pulled his other hand from behind his back and produced a dozen light pink roses.

“For you, little bird.” Sansa gasped excitedly and took them, breathing in the soft sweet smell. “They’re lovely, thank you, Sandor!” She rose up on tip-toes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his face at the last minute and captured her lips, sniggering as she squealed.

“Would you two leave already? I’m trying to eat,” Arya called from the hallway, where she had, apparently, decided that one carton of ice cream wasn’t enough for the evening. Sandor rolled his eyes at her and reached behind Sansa to shut the door, then he swooped her into an embrace and lifted her, claiming her mouth again.

Forgetting all about the flowers that were well on their way to be crushed, Sansa returned the kiss in kind, feeling as if a missing piece of her had finally lodged in place, and it was all because of this large, scarred, giant of a man whom she had met in the back of a cop car.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for jumping onto this crazy train! I enjoyed writing this one-shot turned miniseries, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Don’t worry, I’ve still got other fics to finish, so I’ll be around.


End file.
